Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6.
Saturday, September 2nd, was a gorgeous, end-of-summer day. Marla and the four boys spent the day at Uncle Rich’s house in Monson, Massachusetts, as Chip flew back from an out-of-state conference.
Jared, age 31/2, was walking at the top of a six-foot retaining wall next to the driveway when he slipped in some sand and fell to the pavement below, landing on his forehead. Uncle Rich heard the impact and ran over as Jared stood up bawling and clutching a big scrape on his forehead.
Rich brought Jared inside to Marla and laid him on the couch. She said, “Jared, open your eyes.” He did—and one eye looked at her, while the other was angled strangely away toward the ground. Fearing a serious head injury, 9-1-1 was called.
Jared continued to cry, and Marla, Rich and the boys gathered around him and began to pray. Marla laid her hand on Jared’s head as she prayed specifically for healing.
Ben and Brian did their best to help by announcing each emergency vehicle as it arrived. Chris was very upset and crying, first staying near Jared, then hiding in the house as rescuers arrived. Police officers arrived, then Monson Fire Department EMTs came on the scene and quickly immobilized Jared on a backboard. As they were strapping him in, Jared suddenly cried out “Ow, it’s burning!” and grabbed at his forehead. After this he was more calm and subdued.
Marla rode with him in the ambulance on the 25-minute trip to Bay state Medical Center in Springfield, while Rich followed with the boys in the van. On the way, Jared became less and less responsive and then fell asleep. Was he exhausted from crying and missing his nap? Or was this a sign of brain swelling? Concerned about this change, the EMTs tried to keep Jared awake and called for a paramedic unit to meet them on the way to the hospital.
Jared’s left eye was now totally swollen shut, bulging from the bleeding behind the eyelid, and scowling a dark, angry purple.
A paramedic unit from Ludlow Fire Department met up with the ambulance, and the medic started an IV, hooked up a heart monitor, and gave other advanced life-support care. Knowing that everything was being done that could be done, Marla was able to let her tears flow. As a pediatric nurse, she had cared for many children with head trauma and was well aware of the potential for a devastating outcome.
At the ER Jared was scanned, X-rayed, poked and prodded. His brothers got to see Jared, and had their many questions answered by the excellent Child Life staff person. Chris was afraid Jared would be operated on and was very relieved to find no surgery was needed. Jared was diagnosed with a non-displaced skull fracture over the left eye, extending into the eye socket.
Thankfully the doctors could detect no bleeding in the brain. He was admitted for observation and, after finding a bed on the pediatric unit, he quickly fell into an exhausted sleep. Uncle Rich took the other three boys to his house overnight and left a message on Chip’s cell phone with details of the accident.
Chip landed at the airport at 10:30 p.m. and got the message off his cell phone. It was a quick trip up I-91 to Bay state, all the while making phone calls to
mobilize prayer support. Chip walked onto the pediatric floor to find Jared asleep, being cuddled by Marla.
Jared's left eye was bulging, black and blue, so swollen the lashes were out of sight. He had a three-inch circular abrasion on his forehead, scrapes on his face and left ear, and an IV slowly dripping into his arm. Marla slept in the bed with him, and he was being awakened hourly to check responsiveness. Interestingly, Jared never complained of pain.
We prayed over him. He awakened around 1:00 a.m. and spoke clearly with Marla about the entire incident. Marla felt her worries melting away, replaced with a peace and assurance that Jared would be okay.
By the next afternoon his spirits had improved. He got to play with toys and ride a tricycle around the pediatric unit. Uncle Rich brought the three other boys to visit, and Grandma and Grandpa drove up to see him. By late Sunday afternoon the pediophthalmologist pronounced him fit for discharge, and he was home for dinner.
The swelling should have taken about a week to disappear, but it was nearly gone in three days. His bruising could have taken two to three weeks to fully disappear, but it was gone in one week. We were amazed at his quick recovery.
We know that with God involved we should not have been surprised, but it was rather incredible to see the healing!
As a family, we all read “Curious George Goes to the Hospital” and Jared recognized many things from his experience—nurses, name bracelets, X-ray machines, the tricycles, and the IV. It was a good way for him to talk about his experience and compare what happened to him with what “George” went through. It was also good for the brothers to see what happened to George and learn that the same things had happened to Jared, lessoning the mystery of “behind closed doors.”
In follow-up exams, Jared was found to have no lasting injury of any kind. We thank God for many things! The fall could easily have injured Jared much more severely, but it didn’t. We had quick responses from competent professional caregivers up and down the chain. Modern medicine was able to quickly dispel fears about the severity of the head injury. Our family was supportive and involved throughout. Rich (who is a single guy) cared for Jared’s three brothers by himself for an extra day and made the key phone calls to Chip and family. We had prayer chains working overtime across the country. Pastor Jey and Joan Deifell personally checked on Jared’s progress about every four hours. God’s spirit worked mightily through the body.
In hindsight, we believe God healed Jared before he was put in the ambulance. Remember Jared saying “Ow, it’s burning?” There are many reports of spiritual healing associated with heat or a burning sensation. At the time, Jared’s cries seemed to be indicating further injury—but we believe God was healing Jared and then allowed him to fall into a restful sleep in the ambulance.
When we got to the hospital, his left eye was swollen shut, but when the doctor pried the lids apart to check it, both eyes were, miraculously, in perfect alignment. The doctor was baffled by this change from what Marla and the EMTs reported.
Despite his confirmed skull fracture, Jared didn’t complain of pain—but it all makes sense: God was there in power. We believe the relatively minor extent of Jared’s injuries and his fast and full recovery are due to guardian angels, God’s intervention, and answers to prayer. He is able! He hears and responds! He cares for us! Thank You, Jesus.
Chip and Marla Darius
Cromwell, Connecticut.
Copyright Thanks Be, First Church of Christ, Wethersfield, Ct.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Sylvia's Fire
Week of April 19
The house seemed quieter than usual. Michael, my seventeen year old, had just left in the car for the store to return some soda cans and my mother, who lives with us, was away visiting my sister.
It was “Maddy” and I relaxing in the living room in the glow of the candlelight. “Maddy,” our miniature Schnauzer, was sprawled on the rug where he usually is when I’m in the room. I had no clue how this tranquil evening was about to erupt.
It was about nine on a work night so I decided to take my shower and get ready for bed.I normally take long showers but on this night I cut it short. I don’t know why but it is a good thing I did. As soon as I turned off the shower I heard the smoke alarms screaming and the dog scratching frantically at the bathroom door. I put on a pair of slacks, grabbed a towel and without thinking flung open the bathroom door. A thick wall of black smoke rushed in and I instinctively gasped—mistake. I choked, fell backward and fainted.
I don’t know what happened in the next minute or so. My first recollection is I’m standing outside, still wrapped in a towel staring at my house that is completely engulfed in flames. Maddy is with me barking frantically but I have no idea how either of us escaped that overpowering smoke. I rushed to my neighbor’s house and Marcel took one look at the inferno behind me and called 911.
Michael had just left the store when he heard the sirens of the fire trucks. He pulled his car over to let the fire engines pass and as is his habit he raised his hand and offered a little prayer for those in distress. Little did he know that he was praying for his mother and his own house?
When the fireman arrived it seemed half the town was right behind them. The fire fighters did everything they could but the house was too far-gone. I never saw anything burn so quickly. Like many New England homes built in the 19th century the walls had been stuffed with newspapers and hay to provide insulation. Our old colonial went up like a tinderbox. All we could do was stand helplessly and watch our home burn.
A school friend of Mike’s pointed out an eerie sight. Framed in the window of an upstairs bedroom was the velvet portrait of Jesus hanging on the wall over Michael’s bed and illuminated by the flickering flames below.
We learned latter that the fire was started probably when the dog knocked over a candle on a table by the window that fell igniting a phone book left on the ataman. The window curtain caught on fire and the flames literally raced through the walls.
The next day, after spending a short night at my friend’s house, Michael and I returned to the ruins. There was only one wall standing. We found only two things not completely destroyed by the fire. One was a blanket my mother had crocheted although it reeked of smoke. The other was the framed portrait of Jesus that was still hanging on the one remaining wall.
When we took the portrait down there was no evidence of the fire. It didn’t even have a smoky smell to it. How do you explain that?
Sylvia Jarvis
Sturbridge, Massachusetts
The house seemed quieter than usual. Michael, my seventeen year old, had just left in the car for the store to return some soda cans and my mother, who lives with us, was away visiting my sister.
It was “Maddy” and I relaxing in the living room in the glow of the candlelight. “Maddy,” our miniature Schnauzer, was sprawled on the rug where he usually is when I’m in the room. I had no clue how this tranquil evening was about to erupt.
It was about nine on a work night so I decided to take my shower and get ready for bed.I normally take long showers but on this night I cut it short. I don’t know why but it is a good thing I did. As soon as I turned off the shower I heard the smoke alarms screaming and the dog scratching frantically at the bathroom door. I put on a pair of slacks, grabbed a towel and without thinking flung open the bathroom door. A thick wall of black smoke rushed in and I instinctively gasped—mistake. I choked, fell backward and fainted.
I don’t know what happened in the next minute or so. My first recollection is I’m standing outside, still wrapped in a towel staring at my house that is completely engulfed in flames. Maddy is with me barking frantically but I have no idea how either of us escaped that overpowering smoke. I rushed to my neighbor’s house and Marcel took one look at the inferno behind me and called 911.
Michael had just left the store when he heard the sirens of the fire trucks. He pulled his car over to let the fire engines pass and as is his habit he raised his hand and offered a little prayer for those in distress. Little did he know that he was praying for his mother and his own house?
When the fireman arrived it seemed half the town was right behind them. The fire fighters did everything they could but the house was too far-gone. I never saw anything burn so quickly. Like many New England homes built in the 19th century the walls had been stuffed with newspapers and hay to provide insulation. Our old colonial went up like a tinderbox. All we could do was stand helplessly and watch our home burn.
A school friend of Mike’s pointed out an eerie sight. Framed in the window of an upstairs bedroom was the velvet portrait of Jesus hanging on the wall over Michael’s bed and illuminated by the flickering flames below.
We learned latter that the fire was started probably when the dog knocked over a candle on a table by the window that fell igniting a phone book left on the ataman. The window curtain caught on fire and the flames literally raced through the walls.
The next day, after spending a short night at my friend’s house, Michael and I returned to the ruins. There was only one wall standing. We found only two things not completely destroyed by the fire. One was a blanket my mother had crocheted although it reeked of smoke. The other was the framed portrait of Jesus that was still hanging on the one remaining wall.
When we took the portrait down there was no evidence of the fire. It didn’t even have a smoky smell to it. How do you explain that?
Sylvia Jarvis
Sturbridge, Massachusetts
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Expecting What You Pray to Happen
Week of April 12
Bill and Cindy are a wonderful Christian couple. For years Bill has taught Latin in the Manchester Connecticut Public School System. Cindy was a youth counselor when she first met Bill. They are married, have six children and are running a retreat center in Hebron, Connecticut called Mary's Field.
.
The Pfeiffers have a modest home for themselves and their children. Despite having a large family they opened their home to unwed pregnant girls who had nowhere to go and wanted to deliver their unborn babies. The family agreed on the need to find a separate place for Mary's Field and expand its reach to anyone seeking deeper spiritual meaning.
Bill said the whole family discussed what an ideal center would look like. Each of the children had things they wanted. The younger children wanted an indoor pool to swim in year round and not have to worry about leaves or cold weather. The youngest boy wanted "a neat robot thing that cleans the pool." One teenager wanted a tennis court and another a jute box. Bill wished for a room large enough to house a small chapel and Cindy visualized a spacious kitchen suitable for volunteers to prepare meals for groups.
Bill, an ordained priest, lead the family in prayer and presented these requests to the Lord. Bill then suggested to the children that they give up something they like, to show their seriousnessness in making these prayer requests. The children decide to give up watching television.
Almost a year goes by and no television. No retreat center. “Then came God's answer,” Bill says. He receives a call from a Mary’s Field board member who reports a local bank had foreclosed on an estate. A developer had built the mansion as his personal residence during the real estate boom. The housing bubble burst, the developer committed suicide and the bank was left with the property. It had remained vacant for more than a year and the bank “is anxious to unload this white elephant.”
The Pfeiffer family take a look. A long secluded driveway leads into the property that includes 23 acres, mostly wooded. A large two-story house sits on a hill overlooking woods and a pond. In front of the house there is a paved area for parking and a lawn with a flagpole. Adjacent to the house is a hard surface tennis court and down the hill is a carriage house large enough to serve as a chapel.
The sprawling contemporary house has a rustic interior with four bedrooms, three baths, and a spacious dining room off of a large kitchen that is suitable for cooking for groups.
There is an indoor pool and yes, it is equipped with a self-cleaning robot. One thing the Pfeiffers hadn't requested was a party room with a built in wet bar. However, in one corner of this room stands a shiny jute box.
"And whatever things you ask in prayer, believing, you will receive." (Matthew 21:22)
Bill Pfeiffer
Hebron Connecticut
Bill and Cindy are a wonderful Christian couple. For years Bill has taught Latin in the Manchester Connecticut Public School System. Cindy was a youth counselor when she first met Bill. They are married, have six children and are running a retreat center in Hebron, Connecticut called Mary's Field.
.
The Pfeiffers have a modest home for themselves and their children. Despite having a large family they opened their home to unwed pregnant girls who had nowhere to go and wanted to deliver their unborn babies. The family agreed on the need to find a separate place for Mary's Field and expand its reach to anyone seeking deeper spiritual meaning.
Bill said the whole family discussed what an ideal center would look like. Each of the children had things they wanted. The younger children wanted an indoor pool to swim in year round and not have to worry about leaves or cold weather. The youngest boy wanted "a neat robot thing that cleans the pool." One teenager wanted a tennis court and another a jute box. Bill wished for a room large enough to house a small chapel and Cindy visualized a spacious kitchen suitable for volunteers to prepare meals for groups.
Bill, an ordained priest, lead the family in prayer and presented these requests to the Lord. Bill then suggested to the children that they give up something they like, to show their seriousnessness in making these prayer requests. The children decide to give up watching television.
Almost a year goes by and no television. No retreat center. “Then came God's answer,” Bill says. He receives a call from a Mary’s Field board member who reports a local bank had foreclosed on an estate. A developer had built the mansion as his personal residence during the real estate boom. The housing bubble burst, the developer committed suicide and the bank was left with the property. It had remained vacant for more than a year and the bank “is anxious to unload this white elephant.”
The Pfeiffer family take a look. A long secluded driveway leads into the property that includes 23 acres, mostly wooded. A large two-story house sits on a hill overlooking woods and a pond. In front of the house there is a paved area for parking and a lawn with a flagpole. Adjacent to the house is a hard surface tennis court and down the hill is a carriage house large enough to serve as a chapel.
The sprawling contemporary house has a rustic interior with four bedrooms, three baths, and a spacious dining room off of a large kitchen that is suitable for cooking for groups.
There is an indoor pool and yes, it is equipped with a self-cleaning robot. One thing the Pfeiffers hadn't requested was a party room with a built in wet bar. However, in one corner of this room stands a shiny jute box.
"And whatever things you ask in prayer, believing, you will receive." (Matthew 21:22)
Bill Pfeiffer
Hebron Connecticut
Monday, April 6, 2009
Jack's Easter Miracle
Good Friday Jack, age 57, was working out at the gym, as he often did. Without warning he collapsed on a weight machine and slid to the floor. A cardiac nurse happened to be working out nearby. She normally would not have been at the gym at that hour but a schedule change at work allowed her to be at the gym. She had the presence to remove vomit from Jack’s mouth which cleared his air passage. Jack, unconscious but breathing on his own, was rushed to a nearby hospital.
I the emergency room Jack remained unconscious, a couple of times the doctors lost a pulse. He remained in a coma. The doctor told his wife that a cat scan showed no activity…if he regained consciousness he probably would be a vegetable. Jack’s youngest daughter, Colleen, a high school student, told her mom not to believe the doctor.
“Our God is bigger than that,” she said. Later after the rest of the family arrived Colleen found her way to the Chapel. She was alone. She prayed for God’s healing power. She said she clearly her a voice in her head say, “I will restore those (brain) cells Sunday to glorify my son’s resurrection.”
When she reported this revelation to her family she was met with skepticism, heads shaking in disbelief, and eyes rolling. The next day Jack was still in a
comma and on life support. Twice Colleen, in talking to her dad, got such a strong reaction on the monitoring machine that the nurses came in the room. The second time she was asked her to leave the hospital room. She insisted her dad was going to be ok. “You don’t know my God or my dad,” she told the nurses as she left.
The next day, Easter morning, there was a banging at her bedroom door. It was her little brother reporting that “Dad woke up.”
An excited Colleen, while driving to the hospital stopped at every convenience store she passed to exclaim “Behold the Lamb of God, my dad is healed.” She arrived at the hospital to find her dad sitting up and being his old feisty self.
When Colleen returned home that day and turned on her favorite Christian station the first thing she heard was “Behold the Lamb of God.”
Jack Reilly lives in Tucson, Az and celebrated his 86th birthday earlier this year.
I the emergency room Jack remained unconscious, a couple of times the doctors lost a pulse. He remained in a coma. The doctor told his wife that a cat scan showed no activity…if he regained consciousness he probably would be a vegetable. Jack’s youngest daughter, Colleen, a high school student, told her mom not to believe the doctor.
“Our God is bigger than that,” she said. Later after the rest of the family arrived Colleen found her way to the Chapel. She was alone. She prayed for God’s healing power. She said she clearly her a voice in her head say, “I will restore those (brain) cells Sunday to glorify my son’s resurrection.”
When she reported this revelation to her family she was met with skepticism, heads shaking in disbelief, and eyes rolling. The next day Jack was still in a
comma and on life support. Twice Colleen, in talking to her dad, got such a strong reaction on the monitoring machine that the nurses came in the room. The second time she was asked her to leave the hospital room. She insisted her dad was going to be ok. “You don’t know my God or my dad,” she told the nurses as she left.
The next day, Easter morning, there was a banging at her bedroom door. It was her little brother reporting that “Dad woke up.”
An excited Colleen, while driving to the hospital stopped at every convenience store she passed to exclaim “Behold the Lamb of God, my dad is healed.” She arrived at the hospital to find her dad sitting up and being his old feisty self.
When Colleen returned home that day and turned on her favorite Christian station the first thing she heard was “Behold the Lamb of God.”
Jack Reilly lives in Tucson, Az and celebrated his 86th birthday earlier this year.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
A Family Mystery
Week of March 22
It is one of those unexplained things in our family. Grandfather had come from his house on the Rhode Island shore to spend the better part of the week helping my dad replace the front porch steps on our home in the city.. On the second day my grandfather announced he had to go home. My dad protested but ‘Papa’ was firm.
Papa didn’t know why, he just knew he had to get back to his wife, who was blind, and their adult daughter. My father reluctantly drove Papa to the bus station.
The next afternoon I stood on the unfinished porch with my dad watching the rain and wind blow by the house. At five and a half years old I was holding onto the porch railing and my dad was holding onto me. Suddenly, without making a sound, a tree in the lot across the street toppled over. It didn’t snap or crack it just blew over and was uprooted. Then another tree fell. My dad had seen enough and took me inside.
Dad gathered our family on the inside wall of the dining room, away from the windows while he stood in the opposite corner by the telephone. He called the fire department to discuss the large elm next to our house. While he was talking, we heard a thump and saw the massive tree fall past the window. A branch had grazed the house but the main part of the tree fell harmlessly onto our driveway.
We didn’t know it then but we were witnessing the destructive hurricane of 1938 that would claim 682 lives from Long Island, Providence and the Southern New England coastline. There was no radar in those days and there had been no warning of the approaching danger.
For two days after the hurricane my dad tried to reach Papa. No luck, the phone lines were down. Finally, on the third day my dad decided to drive. He told us later he didn’t realize how catastrophic this hurricane had been until he approached the ocean. Where there had been a row of homes there was now empty space. The road was obliterated in places by sand and he had to detour around large boats and wharfs left stranded in the middle of the roadway.
He finally arrived in Tiverton only to find that the Old Stone Bridge to Island Park, where Papa lived was gone. Dad hitched a ride over by boat.
When he reached the island he found everything in shambles. Many of the buildings he was familiar with were gone or reduced to rubble and my dad was disoriented and in shock. There was so much devastation. A metal street sign still in place told him he was at Papa’s road. All the cottages on the street were crushed or gone, except one. There was Papa’s house still standing with minimal damage.
Papa said when he awoke the morning of the storm he saw the ominous clouds, and boarded up his house, including the cellar windows preventing water from flooding the house. Papa, gramdma and my aunt rode out the ferocious storm in that single story house that Papa had built himself years earlier.
What had produced that overwhelming urge for my grandfather to return home? Papa never tried to explain it. When asked how he knew he had to return home he would just shrug his shoulders.
“Something was telling me I had to go home,” was all that he would say.
He had heeded the message. And it is well he did. Like my Papa, today I pay attention to any strong inner messages. I know the source.
“Whoever listens to me will dwell safely, and will be secure without fear of evil.” (Proverbs 1:33)
Jody Estes
Providence, Rhode Island
It is one of those unexplained things in our family. Grandfather had come from his house on the Rhode Island shore to spend the better part of the week helping my dad replace the front porch steps on our home in the city.. On the second day my grandfather announced he had to go home. My dad protested but ‘Papa’ was firm.
Papa didn’t know why, he just knew he had to get back to his wife, who was blind, and their adult daughter. My father reluctantly drove Papa to the bus station.
The next afternoon I stood on the unfinished porch with my dad watching the rain and wind blow by the house. At five and a half years old I was holding onto the porch railing and my dad was holding onto me. Suddenly, without making a sound, a tree in the lot across the street toppled over. It didn’t snap or crack it just blew over and was uprooted. Then another tree fell. My dad had seen enough and took me inside.
Dad gathered our family on the inside wall of the dining room, away from the windows while he stood in the opposite corner by the telephone. He called the fire department to discuss the large elm next to our house. While he was talking, we heard a thump and saw the massive tree fall past the window. A branch had grazed the house but the main part of the tree fell harmlessly onto our driveway.
We didn’t know it then but we were witnessing the destructive hurricane of 1938 that would claim 682 lives from Long Island, Providence and the Southern New England coastline. There was no radar in those days and there had been no warning of the approaching danger.
For two days after the hurricane my dad tried to reach Papa. No luck, the phone lines were down. Finally, on the third day my dad decided to drive. He told us later he didn’t realize how catastrophic this hurricane had been until he approached the ocean. Where there had been a row of homes there was now empty space. The road was obliterated in places by sand and he had to detour around large boats and wharfs left stranded in the middle of the roadway.
He finally arrived in Tiverton only to find that the Old Stone Bridge to Island Park, where Papa lived was gone. Dad hitched a ride over by boat.
When he reached the island he found everything in shambles. Many of the buildings he was familiar with were gone or reduced to rubble and my dad was disoriented and in shock. There was so much devastation. A metal street sign still in place told him he was at Papa’s road. All the cottages on the street were crushed or gone, except one. There was Papa’s house still standing with minimal damage.
Papa said when he awoke the morning of the storm he saw the ominous clouds, and boarded up his house, including the cellar windows preventing water from flooding the house. Papa, gramdma and my aunt rode out the ferocious storm in that single story house that Papa had built himself years earlier.
What had produced that overwhelming urge for my grandfather to return home? Papa never tried to explain it. When asked how he knew he had to return home he would just shrug his shoulders.
“Something was telling me I had to go home,” was all that he would say.
He had heeded the message. And it is well he did. Like my Papa, today I pay attention to any strong inner messages. I know the source.
“Whoever listens to me will dwell safely, and will be secure without fear of evil.” (Proverbs 1:33)
Jody Estes
Providence, Rhode Island
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Seeking Employment
Week of March 14
Approximately twenty years ago I was working as a secretary in a steamship company in New Orleans. I had been there a couple of years but because I had studied to be a legal secretary, I was ready to get a job with a law firm. I started to seek God’s guidance to help me find a job where I could utilize my legal training. During lunch hour, I would take my Bible and head behind the office building where there were benches and fountains.
While I was out there I would often see homeless people and panhandlers. There was one man in particular that was there every day. Eventually, he came to me and asked what I was reading and I told him. He asked if I was a Jesus freak and I said yes I am. He said I made him feel uncomfortable when he was trying to ask people for money. I told him I had no condemnation for him, but that I thought he seemed able bodied enough to work. I also shared my desire to get a job with a law firm.
We became speaking friends and one day he said, “Since you know God so well, why don’t you pray that I get a job.” At that moment I put my hand on his shoulder and started praying out loud. “Not here, not now,” he protested. I just kept praying. That was on a Thursday. On Monday he came running up to me at lunch. He was clean and groomed and I hardly recognized him. An attorney who he had been asking for money had hired him. I was happy for him but I was jealous.
I said (silently of course) God, I am the one who wanted a job with a law firm, have you mixed things up here or what? I was sure God knew what he was doing and I thanked him for giving this man a job.
About a week later, the man came to me and said, “I have an interview for you at the law firm. The senior partner needs a secretary.” I thought this would take an act of faith for me to go on an interview at the recommendation of this man. Were they just humoring him? Those thoughts vanished immediately because I knew no matter what; I would do nothing to cause him to waiver in his belief in answered prayers. I was not going to let pride prevent me from going and thereby show a lack of faith.
I thanked God for the opportunity, went on the interview and I was hired on the spot. The attorneys still tell people that the best employment recommendation they ever had was from a homeless man. I quickly remind them that God alone was the employment agency. God will answer your prayer when you step out in faith. God also has a wonderful sense of humor.
Carolyn Bourgeois
New Orleans, Louisiana
Approximately twenty years ago I was working as a secretary in a steamship company in New Orleans. I had been there a couple of years but because I had studied to be a legal secretary, I was ready to get a job with a law firm. I started to seek God’s guidance to help me find a job where I could utilize my legal training. During lunch hour, I would take my Bible and head behind the office building where there were benches and fountains.
While I was out there I would often see homeless people and panhandlers. There was one man in particular that was there every day. Eventually, he came to me and asked what I was reading and I told him. He asked if I was a Jesus freak and I said yes I am. He said I made him feel uncomfortable when he was trying to ask people for money. I told him I had no condemnation for him, but that I thought he seemed able bodied enough to work. I also shared my desire to get a job with a law firm.
We became speaking friends and one day he said, “Since you know God so well, why don’t you pray that I get a job.” At that moment I put my hand on his shoulder and started praying out loud. “Not here, not now,” he protested. I just kept praying. That was on a Thursday. On Monday he came running up to me at lunch. He was clean and groomed and I hardly recognized him. An attorney who he had been asking for money had hired him. I was happy for him but I was jealous.
I said (silently of course) God, I am the one who wanted a job with a law firm, have you mixed things up here or what? I was sure God knew what he was doing and I thanked him for giving this man a job.
About a week later, the man came to me and said, “I have an interview for you at the law firm. The senior partner needs a secretary.” I thought this would take an act of faith for me to go on an interview at the recommendation of this man. Were they just humoring him? Those thoughts vanished immediately because I knew no matter what; I would do nothing to cause him to waiver in his belief in answered prayers. I was not going to let pride prevent me from going and thereby show a lack of faith.
I thanked God for the opportunity, went on the interview and I was hired on the spot. The attorneys still tell people that the best employment recommendation they ever had was from a homeless man. I quickly remind them that God alone was the employment agency. God will answer your prayer when you step out in faith. God also has a wonderful sense of humor.
Carolyn Bourgeois
New Orleans, Louisiana
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Jack's Miracle
Week of March 8
Good Friday Jack was working out at the gym, as he often did. Without warning he collapsed on a weight machine and slid to the floor. A cardiac nurse happened to be working out nearby. She normally would not have been at the gym at that hour but a schedule change at work allowed her to be a the gym. She had the presence to remove vomit from Jack’s mouth which cleared his air passage. Jack, unconscious but breathing on his own was rushed to a nearby hospital.
In the emergency room Jack remained unconscious, a couple of times the doctors lost a pulse. He remained in a coma. The doctor told his wife that a cat scan showed no activity. They said if he regained consciousness he probably would be a vegetable. Jack’s youngest daughter, Colleen, a high school student, told her mom not to believe the doctor.
“Our God is bigger than that,” she said. Later after the rest of the family arrived Colleen found her way to the Chapel. She was alone. She prayed for God’s healing power. She said she clearly her a voice in her head say, “I will restore those (brain) cells Sunday to glorify my son’s resurrection.”
When she reported this revelation to her family she was met with skepticism, heads shaking in disbelief, and eyes rolling. The next day Jack was still in a
comma and on life support. Twice Colleen, in talking to her dad, got such a strong reaction on the monitoring machine that the nurses came in the room. The second time she was asked by the nurses to leave the hospital room. She insisted her dad was going to be ok. “You don’t know my God or my dad,” she told the nurses as she left.
The next day, Easter morning, there was a banging at her bedroom door. It was her little brother reporting that, “Dad woke up.”
An excited Colleen, while driving to the hospital stopped at every convenience store she passed to exclaim “Behold the Lamb of God, my dad is healed.” She arrived at the hospital to find her dad sitting up and being his old feisty self.
Jack Reilly
Tucson, Arizona (As told by his daughter)
Good Friday Jack was working out at the gym, as he often did. Without warning he collapsed on a weight machine and slid to the floor. A cardiac nurse happened to be working out nearby. She normally would not have been at the gym at that hour but a schedule change at work allowed her to be a the gym. She had the presence to remove vomit from Jack’s mouth which cleared his air passage. Jack, unconscious but breathing on his own was rushed to a nearby hospital.
In the emergency room Jack remained unconscious, a couple of times the doctors lost a pulse. He remained in a coma. The doctor told his wife that a cat scan showed no activity. They said if he regained consciousness he probably would be a vegetable. Jack’s youngest daughter, Colleen, a high school student, told her mom not to believe the doctor.
“Our God is bigger than that,” she said. Later after the rest of the family arrived Colleen found her way to the Chapel. She was alone. She prayed for God’s healing power. She said she clearly her a voice in her head say, “I will restore those (brain) cells Sunday to glorify my son’s resurrection.”
When she reported this revelation to her family she was met with skepticism, heads shaking in disbelief, and eyes rolling. The next day Jack was still in a
comma and on life support. Twice Colleen, in talking to her dad, got such a strong reaction on the monitoring machine that the nurses came in the room. The second time she was asked by the nurses to leave the hospital room. She insisted her dad was going to be ok. “You don’t know my God or my dad,” she told the nurses as she left.
The next day, Easter morning, there was a banging at her bedroom door. It was her little brother reporting that, “Dad woke up.”
An excited Colleen, while driving to the hospital stopped at every convenience store she passed to exclaim “Behold the Lamb of God, my dad is healed.” She arrived at the hospital to find her dad sitting up and being his old feisty self.
Jack Reilly
Tucson, Arizona (As told by his daughter)
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